Unbidden, inspiration rises in Lyrus' mind. His fingers move without his volition, and he begins to play, haltingly at first, a simple but emotional tune. Heard by all in the room, it raises thoughts of a sudden arrival into a new world, and the glories of a new life. Then the music shifts, and suddenly, everything is a half note off, the new world askew with the listeners feelings. this is cut short by a sudden, violent note, which hangs in the air for a moment before being replaced by a quiet, almost wounded set of notes. Slowly, they build into a melody, still soft, that none the less suggests that with the right aid, freedom might be had once again.
The music hangs in the air, then is gone, and Lyrus' hands are his own again.
---
The girl takes him to a small house, and opens the door to invite him in. Inside, the house proves to be of poor quality, but religiously clean in the manner of those who are proud of what little they have. The house contains only a single room, with a fire in one wall a table in the center, and a bed in one corner.
She crosses the room, and with a key from his blouse opens a chest at the foot of the bed, and from it draws out a small, shiny object. Zyphe knows it almost before he sees it; the broken sword of William Sable.
The handle is of a dark, light-hungry metal, wrought in incredibly small detail, and with a crystal on the pommel that throbs erratically, like the heart of a half-dead man. From it extends a handspan of the thinnest, finest rapier blade Zyphe has ever seen. The blade glitters silver, almost as if under it's own light, and he knows that this blade still courses with power.
